Kickstarter

This update is for Caleb and Shawn, two of my backers eager enough to ask me WTF is up with Dimeword? Thanks for the nudge, guys! Here we go...

I've got a crazy day ahead of me just running family errands, so—as a hat tip to Terry Rossio and Ted Elliot—this is the "bad version". Meaning, this update will be short, dense and not as nuanced as I'd like. Can you dig it?

The stories are progressing, albeit slowly. I'm around 20 or more, I think. No time to take an accurate count right now. The biggest development is that I was finding myself stymied with the stated 100 word limitation. Instead of forcing myself into a specific word length, I opted to write the stories as they long as I felt they needed to be. If they were too long, I figured I could just chop them down later. The most recent one I wrote (in the zombie genre) was easily over 500 words.

This did pose an interesting dilemma, though. For $10 backers, they'd paid for a 100 word story and $20+ backers paid for 200 word stories. My solution? However long the longest of the $10 stories end up being, I'll double that length for $20+ backers. It's not exactly what I promised, but it's the best way I can honor the spirit of the campaign and the product overall should be much improved. That also means I'm going to return to Wonder Russell's six 100 stories and offer to rewrite them to match the length of the longest of the $10 stories. That should make her very happy.

That's all I have for now, but I hope it whets your appetite. I have to leave the country for a few days at the end of this month and—though I wanted to have all the stories written before then—I think realistically, that's just not going to happen right now. Still, never say never. :)

I'll leave you with the sage advice from Cory Doctorow that the best publishers of the future will act as if copying will never be stopped.

Some small good news: I finally wrote the first official Dimeword story. Inspired by Valentine's day, no less, so I wrote a story in the romance genre. I'd tell you more, but that would be spoiling it... 

My next big milestone is writing ten stories. It's fun (and challenging) (and terrifying) to pick a story synopsis at random and craft a miniature story from it. One of my big obstacles to writing was determining how many of the 100 stories would be 200 words long instead of the standard 100 words — after the hours of meticulous sleuthing, it turns out that almost exactly half are 200 words. Weird. 

I'm well aware Dimeword progress seems glacial. I've been trying to shake a virus all week while completing a huge web site redesign for a new client. Now that I'm finally happy with my web site redesign, and on the mend from this cold, I think this next week will see me pumping out Dimeword stories en masse. Yay! 

But here's the real reason I wrote an update. Not long after I wrote my last update about not being cost effective due to excessive time spent per story, I got this comment from TAC (also my biggest donor): 

I never expected that you were doing this to be cost effective. You are trying something no one else has done before. It is better to try and fail than not to try at all. So many people were ready to tell you all of the reasons it couldn't work, I don't see them with a funded Kickstarter.  

You now have a much better idea how projects like this work, and you can refine the approach to take the things you didn't see from the outside before into consideration. Makes sense to me... So are we getting snickerdoodles? :D

This comment has lingered with me all week. In particular, So many people were ready to tell you all of the reasons it couldn't work, I don't see them with a funded Kickstarter. As this simple sentence echoed in my head, I kept hearing myself say, "He's right." 

This is the biggest challenge facing all creatives: discounting naysayers. I once heard Matt Damon describe how actors have to overcome constant rejection. By way of illustration, he told a story about a small town girl who desperately wanted to be a professional ballerina. When a big town ballet talent scout came to town, she auditioned and he told her that she should give up trying to be ballerina. Crestfallen, she gave up on her dream and became a librarian. Twenty years later, the same talent scout came through town and she met him again to tell him that she always regretted her decision. The talent scout said, "If your dream really meant that much to you, why the hell did you listen to me?" Later in the interview, Damon was asked what his number one piece of advice would be for aspiring actors. With a straight face, he answered: "Don't be an actor." 

I can't be sure if Damon was being ironic, since he'd just told a story about not always listening to advice if you're pursuing your dream, but it struck me nonetheless. Was he throwing down the gauntlet? Was he pushing actors to weed themselves out so that only the most committed enter the fray? 

If I ran all my crazy ideas past others before I launched them, and then followed their advice to abandon such craziness because "Who would buy/watch/enjoy that?" or "What's the point?", I wouldn't get nearly enough done. It's not that people mean to be downtrodden, or skeptical, or malicious. In nearly all cases, their motives are utterly pure—they are simply trying to keep me from wasting my time. And who can blame them, really? Time is our most valuable resource and wasting it means it's gone forever. Their heart is in the right place. 

My close friend was about to take the bar to become a lawyer. Some of the questions on the exam are intentionally long, designed to slow you down. I remember him jabbing his finger in the air with a look of defiance. "You have to look at those questions and say, 'Fuck you' and move on to the next question. Otherwise, you'll never finish the test." 

I launched this campaign because I wanted to see if it was even possible to fund such a project. If I'd floated this idea before launching, I'd probably have gotten a lot of people saying, "I don't know... $10 for a small 100 word story?? That doesn't sound like it will ever succeed." And to those detractors, I can't help but feel exactly what my lawyer friend felt at those time-wasting exam questions. 

So many people were ready to tell you all of the reasons it couldn't work, I don't see them with a funded Kickstarter. 

People always tell you why it won't work. Have they even tried to do it? Do they know your fans? Have they taken the time to completely understand what you're going to do? 

We love to learn from examples. We have whole industries built up around teaching lessons learned from successful examples. But you can study examples until the day you die and never create anything of your own. Creation is hard. It's technically difficult, artistically difficult, and you have to fight a lot of battles to bring your creation into the world, often battles with those who feel they're acting in your best interests. So you've got to jab your finger in the air with defiance. You've got to ignore all that well-meaning noise and remember that the best way to learn is to do. 

Stop studying examples—become one.

Hit a milestone just now by finishing off the list of 100 story ideas for the book. Now I know exactly what all the stories will be and it's simply a matter of writing them all. 

Perhaps because I ignored Hofstadter's Law (i.e., things always take much longer than you think, even when you take into account Hofstadter's Law), I vastly underestimated how long this part of the process would take. Choosing each genre, and then switching mental gears to create compelling stories for each genre, was remarkably difficult. I remember someone on Techdirt refuting my claim that $10 wasn't enough per story because I could "create an original story in 10 minutes". Not long after that, I proved on the Dimeword Telethon (which you see beginning 15 minutes in) that I could write a story from scratch in 10 minutes. However, if you truly take into account all the time I've spent so far just coming up with these synopses, I'm afraid my friendly detractor was spot on. 

So should I feel regret that so far these stories haven't been as cost-effective as I initially bragged? From a purely business perspective, yes, I should feel some regret. That was poor planning on my part, and financially unsustainable. However, I did this campaign to learn as many lessons as possible, both about crowdfunding but also about writing a project like this. That's one lesson I'm very happy to have received and I don't regret it at all.

What's next? Writing the stories themselves. This should be quite fun since I can chose at random each story. I won't go so far as to say this process will go quickly, but writing the stories is the whole point of the campaign and I can't wait to jump into it.

I'll post again when I hit some more significant milestones.

Huge success!

First, I tracked down exactly how many donors I had over $10. Since Dimeword's original idea was to get at least 100 backers of $10 or more, I'd fallen short by just 9. Then I remembered I'd promised the first 10 backers would be upgraded to a minimum $10 pledge, so the number dropped to 7. And I remembered I'd rolled two other donations from family into my wife's donation,  which left me at just 5. After two phone calls, I had three more backers, and two people stepped up via Twitter (Thanks, Kiernan and Karen!). 100 backers. Done. Makes me happy.

Next I created what I call "story buckets" which were 10 sets of 10 5.5" x 8" papers numbered 1-10 and the genre. Then I drew up a list of workable synopses on a big paper, chose the best 10, and wrote one on each paper. This method will help a lot in planning the sequence the final stories will be placed in the final book.

Currently, I have 27 synopses decided, mostly in historical fiction and humor, but a few sci-fi and fairy tales for good measure. I'm also reaching out to the 10 people who selected the "Gribbalicious" tier to see what kind of genre, character and/or plot they want. The first 10 people to donate also were "upgraded" to the "Gribbalicious" tier, so make sure you check your junk mailbox just in case!

The big news is that I finally finished the two outstanding stories for Wonder Russell. I'm sure Wonder will put them online shortly, but here's one story that's already online. And below are all the stories in full, which is good taster of what's to come. N.B. These stories are mostly allegorical and won't make much sense until you see Wonder's short film Revelation.

1.

You are forbidden among us.

You have committed a repugnant trespass—we judge you for this indiscretion. You knew full well the laws of our tribe yet have created this abomination, this halfling that is neither of our tribe nor his.

You are banished.

The creature you joined with has been dispatched and your punishment is a death of a thousand cuts from the wildlife. Since you are a warrior, your punishment will last longer than most.

Yet… you are a mother. And no mother should be taken completely from her child, just as we should not wish one’s worst enemies suffer the loss of their parents prematurely. Thus, we have also decided, as part of your punishment, to have your halfling son come to you. He will see your foreign visage and attack it because it is not him. He will not know it is you, and nobody can tell him. You will not know, and we will never tell you.

Your punishment is to be locked in battle with your only offspring, unknowingly.

Like all puzzles, however, there is a secret escape, an offer of redemption if you last long enough.

We are not so cruel, yes?

2. 

Safe in here. I like this. I like how you hold me.

I know who you are. Where you must go. It is inevitable.

Whisper to me. Tell me your secrets. Safe in here.

You must leave this. It is time. Come.

Don’t let go… Don’t leave. Don’t leave!

Please: you are not lost—we await you—but we cannot tell you where to go. You must make your own path.

I don’t want this. You have forsaken me. Safe in here.

You’re close. Your obstacle is you now. Push past your fears.

Why?? Why do you leave? I need you… I’m dying.

Do you feel life? Come join us.

I’m scared!

Come closer.

Come back.

I see you. You are ready. You are a woman. You are purity. We all want to meet you.

I don’t recognize you.

Look at me. Look at you. Tell me what you see.

A fraction of my parents, and more. I want to go back.

We all want to go back. And you can… just not forever.

Is this your home?

No. This is your home. I say what I see, I tell no lies.

What is a lie?

Safe out here.

3. 

Though thousands of miles from home, she still understood the sermon. It was in Latin, her Sunday morning tongue. Strangers around her went through the motions—sitting, kneeling, standing. It was thrilling to find such familiarity amid so strange a land.

It ended. She left the church, resuming her loneliness exactly where she left off. This isn’t right, she thought. I’m empty. I am not connected.

She sat on a nearby bench, looking across the plaza. Boys played soccer. Men threw bocce balls. Reflexively, she pulled out Rosary beads, pinching one of the beads between her knuckles. Her eyes wandered down to the beads.

Will I never slice through this spiritual scar tissue? she wondered. These beads imbue me with nothing.

Then—a crash. She looked up: an old woman was face down on the concrete, arms flailing like a crab.

The boys ran over, pulling the woman up gingerly. Then the men. She saw it: genuine empathy. One boy offered the toothless woman gum—the men laughed.

That moment was more spiritual than all her decades at Church. She stood, crying. Then went over to see how she could be of any assistance.

Her Rosary beads stayed behind.

4. 

You cannot find me.

You have sought me before, and will continue… it is futile for I am faster than light, faster than the darkness. I am the place in-between you.

Yet still you look.

This cannot abide. Something must be done. I will lay out a laundry list of the unexpected, pouring molten lava into your soul, rippling for years evermore. Merciless. I hope you break.

But you won’t, will you? Not if you don’t want it. You are not a target to be jabbed at. You are the knife… and I sharpen you with every parry. One day, perhaps, you will see just how poignant that is.

Then, one day years from today, I’ll see you battle-scarred and floating across the field. A vicious battle… I thought you’d have succumb… but there you are, blinking deliberately into the soft wind, uncaring of your beaten armor or the earthen ink blots that pepper it.

You have fire now. You are fire. Nothing can stop you.

Yet still you look.

On that day—when you grasp the futility yet carry on—we will become one. It’s what you always wanted.

And you will hate me for it.

5. 

How oddly insects would think of us. Bones on the inside? they'd say in shock. What use could that possibly serve? Was that what the first blacksmiths thought when they created knightly armor? 

Yet no armor can be smithed for malice or dishonor. 

So we collect. We gather all these material things around us to nurture our soul and remind us we are not alone. We even acquire a spouse as par for the course. 

Yet all these things you've collected... they aren't armor, just a snake skin. You wear them for comfort and protection. I know this for I am among them. You wear me to show off to others, to label accordingly. You feel it sharpens you, makes you more fit for battle. Sadly, I am only a hilt… your sword remains blunted and futile. You will not know this until your hilt has been ripped away without ceremony. 

All skins shed by circumstance or choice. Which poison will it be? 

A marriage ends, a skin sloughs… your agony is severe. Endless. 

Your new skin is fresh, and adaptive. You don’t need the old things anymore. 

You don’t need me. Your inner armor fits you well.

6.

On the stage, she was at home. She wore the cloak of another's soul, wrapped so tightly in it that all else faded away, both for her and her audience. Yes, an act, certainly, but such an exquisite moment that it felt like falling into one’s stride for the first time, as if an angel were softly tickling guitar strings deep inside her chest. 

The moment she walked into the light, all her Will surrendered to it. She was transcendent. Her body hummed, an emotional tuning fork coaxing out nethermost feelings.

It was not to last. On the subway home, she always snapped back. Alien. Disconnected. Life was no rehearsal, right? So why did she feel she were awkwardly learning her lines? Her real life was the act, and it weighed on her. 

Behind a forgotten quiet thought, her acting coach insinuated himself into the spotlight. He sat with crossed legs, and abruptly waved his arms like a chicken. When your lines are predictable, he laughed, do something—anything—unpredictable. 

That made her smile. 

The train swayed, liltingly. She peeled off her coat. 

No more acting. I am a conduit for myself. 

She spread her arms wide—and danced.

Today is D-Day, the first major attack on ambiguity and uncertainty.

I've slotted today for just writing Dimeword stories—all day. 

I rarely get these kinds of days, but it's here. As backers, you should be as excited as I that Dimeword is finally being created now, right now, today. I get to spend my day with Gods, gungslingers, zombies and zany lovers. It is a truly gifted life, and I'm so happy you came along for the ride.

The plan is first finish the last two stories for Wonder Russell's Revelation films, then create as many synopses of all the stories as possible. I might start writing a few stories to shift gears, though it's always hard to tell what will work best when the creative juices get going.

I may pop onto Twitter a bit today, but basically, I'm off the radar. I have worlds to create.

Will report back later today.